


if we changed back then, we could change again

by LadyLaviniya



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Best Friends, Childhood Friends, F/F, Friendship/Love, One-Sided Attraction, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-it Notes, Texting, Useless Lesbians, comments would be lovely!, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26984398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLaviniya/pseuds/LadyLaviniya
Summary: We can be beautiful...Just not today!If not now, then when? If not here, where? College isn’t going to make it any easier. Speak now, or forever suffer in silence.Written for Selective Mutism Awareness Month.Also did art. But the art came first.
Relationships: Heather Chandler/Veronica Sawyer, Heather McNamara & Veronica Sawyer, Heather McNamara/Veronica Sawyer, Jason "J. D." Dean & Veronica Sawyer, Martha Dunnstock & Betty Finn & Veronica Sawyer
Comments: 6
Kudos: 66





	1. Weed Among Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the mindfuck.
> 
> Also the usual disclaimers!
> 
> —I never experienced SM firsthand BUT I do know someone I’m 96% sure had it as a kid. She never answered my PM tho so lol can’t confirm.
> 
> —I don’t even remember how I came to hear about it, but once I did it became a topic of interest for a good while. And you bet I did what any good writer does and researched the fuck out of it to the best of my ability. Most of it had to do with children (it _is_ considered a complex _childhood_ anxiety disorder) so I apologize for any missteps. From what I understand, the older you are (ie: teen+), the harder it feels to break.
> 
> —Following up on that last point, it does look different for everyone. Not everyone with SM experiences the same symptoms or showcases it the same way.
> 
> —If you currently have or once suffered from SM, mild or severe, I just wanna let you know you’re doing great, I’m proud of you, and I love you!!

“Hey, Heather?”

“What?”

“So this might be a dumb question...”

Heather Duke tore her eyes away from the book in her lap to meet Heather McNamara’s faltering gaze beside her. She sighed. “What?”

“Have you ever actually heard Veronica, like, talk, at all?”

Heather scoffed. “Of _course_ I have. Don’t you remember?” Pushing her tray aside, she dug her elbow into the table, pressing two fingers against her temple as she skimmed the page for the last sentence she read. “They had to put us in separate classes starting in third grade because fucking Country Club Courtney kept saying I was gonna shank her if she raised her hand one more time.”

Heather winced. “Yeah, that was pretty—No!” She smacked her hand on the table in front of Heather to get her attention again, jumping slightly when Heather jumped. “I mean, like, right _now_. Have you heard her talk at all _today_? Last week? _This_ _year_?”

“For _fuck’s_ sake, Heather! Why do you care?! What does it matter if she talks or not?!”

Heather blinked. “I just...” She bit her lip. “You know how when you know someone really well, you can hear their voice inside your head? Like, when you’re about to say something rude and you can hear Heather being like, ‘Shut up, Heather!’? Or when you want to get another slice of pie, but you know your mom’s gonna say, ‘Haven’t you had enough, dear?’ so you pretend you were actually reaching for something else?”

Shit. That did sound like them. “So?”

“I just realized I don’t have an inner Veronica voice.” Deflated, Heather popped a tater tot in her mouth. “That’s all.”

Heather sighed, closing her book and stuffing it in her bag. Picking up her fork, she picked at her salad. “I’m sure Heather knows what she sounds like. I mean, they’re practically joined at the hip.”

Heather smiled. “That’s true.”

Their eyes traveled across the cafeteria. Even with virtually everybody there and constantly moving around, it wasn’t hard to find Heather Chandler administering the lunchtime poll and Veronica Sawyer keeping pace with the clipboard.

They were taking a lot longer today, however, because, for some reason, Heather kept stopping at a new table, looking at Veronica, and then they’d stay there forever. Then, she’d go to the next table, roll her eyes at Veronica, and stay there for another forever. The only tables that didn’t get this treatment were the two on the south end, combined occupants totaling up to a mere three.

Heather sighed as she pulled out her chair and sat down. Who needed gym class when she did her lap right around the caf? The least Veronica could do was smile at her rather than trying to hide it under the guise of reading the answers she jotted down herself.

Heather and Heather shared a knowing look between them. Heather was the first to speak, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “So, what took you so long today?”

“Are you two fucking blind?” Heather rolled her eyes. “Veronica was all, ‘Heather, why can’t we talk to different kinds of people?’ so I was like,” she threw her hands up, “‘fine.’” With a click of her tongue, she elbowed Veronica, who practically flew out of her seat at the touch. “Hey. You’re writing me a note to get out of gym, m’kay?”

Veronica nodded, smile turning tight as she flipped the sheet on the clipboard.

Satisfied, Heather turned her attention to her cold lunch, pushing Heather’s tray back to her. “Move your shit, Heather!”

“Sorry, Heather...” Heather mumbled.

Meanwhile, Heather, sitting across from Veronica and racking her brain for any memory of her voice still, followed Veronica’s line of sight to the south end of the room. There was only one person in that corner of the caf, and, as far as she knew, she was the only one at their table who knew his name. “God, Ronnie, drool much?”

Veronica bit her lip, gaze falling to her lap. Clutching the red clipboard to her chest, she turned her big doe eyes on her. At the same time, Heather could feel Heather’s eyes burning into her too. If she could shoot laser beams, they’d be red hot. She had to act fast.

“His name’s Jason Dean; he’s in my American History class.”

Veronica nodded again, slow and emphatic, and only once. That was her ‘ah, that explains it!’ nod. Whatever plan she had cooking, that was the last piece she needed.

“Ugh,” sneered Heather, prying her clipboard from Veronica, “Who cares?”

“Veronica certainly does,” Heather commented with a giggle, only to cry out when Heather kicked her under the table, “For Chrissake, Heather!”

“C’mon, you guys!” Heather cried, “Let’s not fight, okay? I think it’s cute Ronnie’s found someone she likes.”

“I’d think it’d _be cute_ if she had better taste!” Heather snapped. She turned sharply when Veronica stood. “The _hell_ do you think _you’re_ going?”

Veronica held up her hands in defense, one empty, the other holding a blue post-it. Leaning across her seat, she pried Heather’s red clipboard from her hands and pressed the post-it into her palm. Then, with her usual soft smile, she stepped back and made her way towards the south end of the cafeteria.

Heather glanced down at her hand and scoffed.

“What?” Heather asked, rubbing her leg where Heather had kicked her, “What’d she say?”

“She’s coming back, right?” Heather asked.

Heather sighed.

“She better,” she muttered, and thrust her hand towards them.

  
_BRB!  
  
  
XO, V_

“Oooh!” Heather sneered. “Looks like our little V wants J’s D.”

“Shut. **Up**. Heather. Or I’ll shank you with your fucking fork.”

Heather cleared her throat emphatically, pointing in Veronica’s general direction with her eyes. They refocused.

Instead of heading directly for Jason Dean, Veronica stopped at the sad, lonely table Martha Dumptruck shared with Betty Finn. Only seeing Veronica’s back left the conversation awfully one-sided, which brought Heather back to their earlier conversation.

“Hey, Heather?”

Instead of answering, Heather sent her a pointed glare.

“Erm, Heather and I were wondering... you know, since you and Ronnie are so close? Do you know what she sounds like? I don’t have her voice in my head, so I was hoping you did.”

Heather stared at her. Finally, with a tired sigh, she rolled her eyes and turned back to look for Veronica. “Not _now_ , Heather.” She crumpled the note in her hand when she found her. “Fuck, there she goes.”

Each straightened in her chair. Veronica was approaching Jason Dean.

“Oh my god, is she actually talking to him?!”

“Well, his lips are moving, so hers should be, right?”

“Be _quiet_!”

“For literally what? We can’t fucking hear anything anyway!”

“ _Sshh_!”

Fuck Jason. What was _Veronica_ saying?

Her body language was nothing new: shoulders hunched up to her ears, nodding yes or shaking her head no, some shrugs, a few hand gestures. She swayed a lot. Playing coy? She looked down at the clipboard and seemed to be reading him the lunch poll question. But then she offered him her hand... and he kissed it??

Just who did he think he was, James Dean?

And not only that, he did it _while maintaining eye contact_ _with Heather FUCKING Chandler_.

“Oh my god, Heather’s gonna burst.”

Grinding the post-it into dust, Heather marched over to where Veronica stood fawning. Her ears burned, her fists trembled. Fuck, she didn’t know whether to strangle one or both of them.

Thanks to Jason, Veronica had time to turn around, and her mood hit the ground faster than the clipboard. Arms held close to her chest, she grasped for something that wasn’t there anymore as she backed towards the windows. If she pressed her knuckles any harder against her lips, she would've punched herself in the face.

Heather stared at her for a solid five seconds before picking up the clipboard, undamaged, snippets of conversation scrawled in the margins of the top sheet of paper. She looked down upon Jason Dean, holding his eye as she seized Veronica’s stiff arm. “Come _on_ , Veronica.”

They were both shaking, but Veronica caved first. She nodded, eyes squeezing shut. Her arm relaxed. She opened her eyes again; they grew wide as she took in a shaky breath and unstuck her hand from her glossed lips to wave to her precious Jason Dean, spelling his name in so few letters even a fetus could understand.

He smirked, offering an upward nod. “Yeah. Later, hater.”

Eyeing his own hands, he held up two fingers for Veronica.

And one special just for Heather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all I was **so close** to having JD shoot Chandler oh my god.
> 
> There was so much opportunity for it to go south so damn fast.
> 
> Anyway I’ve been putting off on posting this because I wanted to have a good chunk of it written before I posted but I realized if I did it like that I wouldn’t get it out til maybe next year and who knows how obsessively _into_ Heathers I’ll be by then?
> 
> Plus it’s Winona’s birthday today so if that’s not a great excuse to post then I don’t know what is. What a precious smol bean. She is such a gift and I am so gay. Also she’s very, very, very smart to not have social media. Bc fuck even I caved and got twitter ~~only to not follow my favorite celebrities bc that weirds me out. like. I’m already too gay to function thanks~~.
> 
> idk i just think she’s neat


	2. Movie Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* _It’s Barrett Wilbert Weed’s birthday today aaaaaaaaaaaaaa_!!
> 
> What a precious tol bean.
> 
> Totally sub to the headcanon Veronica is Janis’ mom.
> 
> Posting this in the morning to see if it makes a difference in traffic. If not, I’ll stick with posting in the afternoon maybe. Let me know if there’s an ideal time I should aim for.

“September 8th.

“Dear Diary...

“It’s been a whole week since the Heathers indoctrinated me into their cult. It was supposed to be just lunch on Monday, but now they won’t let me leave. [ _nervous laugh_ ] My gut tells me—gut, brain, same difference in this case—it’s so they could have my skills on call, but... [ _shrugs_ ] we went to the mall last Saturday. Which was _terrifying_ , by the way. Heather Duke drove us there, Heather Chandler paid for... basically everything, and I think Heather McNamara was just there to make sure I didn’t hide inside the dressing room the whole time. She’s a lot stronger than she looks.

“I feel like their new pet pony. They didn’t have to buy me ribbons for my hair, or feed me sugar cubes, or take me for walks every single day, but if they want to ride me, they need me to trust them. And Heather Chandler’s making sure everyone knows she called dibs. If anything, I’m _her_ pony and she’s just nice enough to let everyone else look at me.

“Fuck, I wish they didn’t look at me.

“God, that was mortifying...

“Anyway, positive thoughts. Uhhh... JD might be sitting with Martha and Betty now. I hope they get along. A few less trays to dump, and you know what they say: there’s safety in numbers. Heather doesn’t like him very much, but that’s old hat. Actually... I don’t know if she doesn’t like _him_ , or _me_ interacting with him. Pretty sure it doesn’t matter; if looks could kill, she’d be the only one left at Westerburg.

“Um... let’s see, what else?

“The lunchtime polls the Heathers do. I think they’re supposed to get me talking more, but it’s so much easier to just... follow them around with the clipboard than to actually open my mouth. No one’s said anything, but... the thought’s out there now. For me, I mea—”

“Veronica! Martha and Betty are here for movie night!”

“Oka—”

“And they brought a boy—Jason Dean! Er, JD, my apologies. JD’s here too!”

Ohhhhhhhhh shit.

“That’s all for now.”

* * *

JD held up two cups, lifting each flavor as he named them. “Did you say cherry... or Coke?”

Veronica eyed them both, pretending to give it serious thought before smiling up at him as she reached for the cherry Slurpee. JD took a sip of the Coke as he settled next to her, leaning against the side of her bed, arm thrown around her shoulder by way of a casual stretch.

At first, she shied away from his arm. When her head touched his shoulder, she seemed to shy away from that too, only allowing herself to relax when he stayed perfectly still.

Then she stole a sip of his Slurpee when she thought he wasn’t looking and doubled over when the freeze hit, one hand pressed against her forehead, the other pounding against the rug under her feet.

JD laughed. Betty, who was setting up the DVD player, also laughed when she turned around.

“What’s so funny?” Martha asked. She closed the door behind her as she came in, only to look like a deer in the headlights when her eyes fell on JD. Sheepishly, she left it ajar before settling on Veronica’s blue bean bag chair.

“Ronnie thought she was being sneaky,” Betty giggled.

“And karma immediately gave her brain freeze,” JD added, biting down on his straw, “Nice try, Sawyer, but no dice.”

Veronica’s lower lip jutted out in one of the biggest pouts Martha had ever seen, and she saw a lot during her adventures in babysitting. But on Veronica, especially when directed at her, Martha couldn’t resist laughing either.

“You reap what you sow, Veronica!”

Veronica stuck her tongue out at her. And gasped when JD tweaked her sides. When she sprang to her feet and turned to face him, he looked away, taking a huge gulp of his drink.

“What?” he asked with an innocent shrug, topping it with a smirk when he caught her eye again.

She was certainly _trying_ to look mad, but her smile betrayed her. She opened her mouth to say something when—

“Finally!” Betty crowed. She turned on the TV, switching channels until the screen was entirely blue. Then, stalking over to them, she held up two DVD cases. “All in favor of Princess Bride for the 25th week in a row, raise your hand!”

Martha’s hand immediately shot up, only to sink back down when it was the _only_ hand up at all.

“All those in favor of Mean Girls, raise your hand!”

At first, it was just Betty. Veronica squinted, but after some thought, only half-raised her hand.

All three looked at JD. He sucked in a breath.

“Yeaah, I’m not...” His eyes darted between each of them, releasing the breath. “Neither of these sound like my kinda thing, so... have at it.”

Betty shrugged. “Mean Girls it is. Sorry, Martha. But there’s a happy ending there too!”

Martha nodded. “That’s true.”

JD bit down on his straw again. If Veronica was into it, he’d just have to suck it up.

“Hey, Finn—toss me the case.”

She did. Veronica caught it. He brushed his knuckles up and down her arm as he read the back; she pressed a few kernels of popcorn against his lips.

Yeah, just as he thought.

He handed the DVD case back to her.

“Why the hell do you guys wanna watch some movie when you’re living it in real life? Regina George is just Heather Chandler in a weaker shade of red!”

Martha waved at them. “Because it’s a comedy, and our lives are not. Also—”

“ _Don’t be fooled by the pink—she is not playing dolls! She is stalking the halls, for the thrill of the kill_!”

“...Betty loves her musicals.”

“Ah,” JD nodded, “Well, doesn’t that explain all!”

“ _She’s the queen of beasts, and you’re in her pride_!” Betty sang, pointing to Veronica, “ _You have hitched a ride, with the apex predator! Don’t you think it’s fun, when she bares her claws, and you’re safe because, you’re with the apex predator_!”

Veronica hid her face in her hands. But she peeked at them between her fingers. Her smile was his only cue to chill.

Suck it up, buttercup.

So they watched Mean Girls that night.

Every once in a while, JD would catch Veronica’s eye when things got dull. Maybe he could fake sleep. He went so far as to lay his head in her lap, and she ran her fingers through his hair in a way which made him _actually_ want to sleep. But as the evening went on, he found himself more and more invested. By the climax, he was sitting up again, Veronica in _his_ lap, his chin on her shoulder.

The image of Regina George standing over all the chaos _she_ created... He grinned, licking his lips.

Janis was top-tier; he’d chill with her.

When Regina got hit by the bus, he was the only one who didn’t see it coming. If he jumped five feet, Veronica jumped ten. But he held her steady, even closer, and she eased.

When the movie was over, all eyes honed in on him once again. Betty especially.

“JD? Your thoughts?”

He set his empty cup on Veronica’s nightstand, arms sliding back around her waist.

“That was, uh... the lamest musical I’ve ever seen.”

And because it was still early, Betty put on the songs, pulling her friends to their feet. Armed with hairbrushes as makeshift mics, Betty and Veronica danced while Martha stiffly and halfheartedly moved her arms to the rhythm. When the acoustic guitar came on, Veronica pushed her way up front.

“ _It’s a cautionary tale, of fear and lust and pride_!” she leaned in close to his face, one hand on JD’s knee, “ _Based on actual eve-e-ents, where people **died**!_”

“No one died!” Martha cried, sitting back down.

“ _But how far would you go_ —” Betty cut in, pulling Veronica back, “ _to be popular and hot_? Would you resist temptation?” she asked, turning English.

Veronica rolled her eyes. “ _No you would not! Just admit it_ _sometimes_ —”

“— _mean is what you are! Mean is easier than nice! And though mean can take you far_ —” Synchronized finger wagging. “ _Maybe this’ll make you think twice_!”

As he bobbed his head to the beat, JD crawled over to sit by Martha. She seemed to appreciate that.

“Are you having fun, JD?” she asked.

The song changed. His eyes went immediately to Veronica to see what she was going to do next. She and Betty were taking turns stepping onto her bed in their socks, striking poses while belting lines.

Well. Betty was belting.

Veronica was lip-syncing.

Huh.

How about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so gay I literally don’t know how to write boys.
> 
> Or maybe I just don’t know how to write JD as a non-murderer. Oop.


	3. The Safest Heather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i’d like to take a moment to apologize for this chapter.
> 
>  _i am so sorry_.
> 
> nothing really bad happens it’s just really long.
> 
> edit: Happy turkey day and happy birthday to both my favorite actress Kristin Bauer van Straten as well as my evil queenie who will prolly never see this, Adi :D I’m a bit early, but times are weird.
> 
> also I swear I’ll stop uploading on people’s birthdays lol but it’s just a thing this month. I’ve been busy with NaNoWriMo (first timer!) and it’s also a Heathers/Mean Girls fic (original, I know) I’m super stoked for. It’ll be up... whenever.

With her head tilted back and small pink lips puckered, Heather McNamara delicately placed both pencil and pen on her upper lip at the same time. If she was _really_ careful, she could balance her eraser too.

Well, if she could find it.

She jumped at the knocks on her door, sending everything falling into her notebook, left page full of half-assed notes, right page completely blank except for the date in the top right corner.

Yesterday’s date, but shhh.

“Heather? Your friend Veronica’s here to study with you.”

Heather’s eyes widened.

_There was a God after all._

“Heather?” Two more gentle knocks as Heather fluffed her hair and checked her makeup. And her teeth. “Maybe she’s listening to music. You want to just go in, honey?”

Making sure her math book was at least _open_ , she hopped off her bed and opened the door just as Veronica reached for the knob.

Veronica’s eyes darted downward as her arm fell to her side. She was wearing her scarf again, something she hadn’t worn since... well, last Saturday. No one could ever get a read on her when she hid herself away. Well, maybe Heather could, since they were always together. And Heather definitely could, because she was so smart. But Heather? Where to start?

Maybe that’s why it had to go.

Heather smiled. “Thanks, Klara. Come on in, Ronnie, I was hitting a wall studying by myself anyway.”

Klara nodded. “Study _harder_ , Heather.”

Heather leaned against the door once it shut, breathing out a sigh of relief.

Veronica draped her oversized overcoat on the back of the chair Heather used to lay out her clothes, set her diary on the seat, and leaned her backpack against a leg. She waved hello to Tweety, who chirped and flitted about in her cage. Then, pulling out her pad of post-its from her coat pocket, Veronica removed the top one and held it out to Heather.

  
_A+ = HMc(studying) + V  
  
<3_

“You know I’m like, _this close_ to flunking math, right?” And it was only the beginning of the year.

Veronica blew out a breath Heather supposed was something of a laugh, gaze dipping briefly once again. She handed her another.

 _I’m not leaving until you get it, okay?  
You’re going to pass the next math test bc you know how.  
Friends don’t let friends struggle_.

She was good at giving Heather the warm fuzzies. If she ever said anything out loud, it would probably be something nice. Heather smiled, resting a hand on Veronica’s shoulder and squeezing it. “Thanks, Ronnie. You’re the best.”

Veronica’s smile reached her eyes. Heather could almost see it.

They moved to her bed, sitting side by side, notebooks at their feet, Heather’s collection of gel pens, pencils, erasers, and highlighters sprawled just beyond that. While Heather hugged her pillow and waited for Veronica to tell her to do something, Veronica spent the first few minutes looking between their notebooks. She would pick up Heather’s, catch sight of something she knew—or _thought_ she knew—and flip through pages and pages and _pages_ of her own to find something that matched. Back and forth, forth and back. After a few rounds of this, she gave up and simply pointed to Heather’s notes, tilting her head as she tapped them, her large brown eyes blinking innocently.

Heather bit her lip.

“It’s Algebra I...” she mumbled.

Veronica nodded The Nod. She put her things aside and leaned forward to grab Heather’s textbook instead.

“Chapter four, page fifty-something. You’ll know it when you see it.”

Veronica found it immediately, finger gliding across the glossy sheet like an ice skater on the rink. Then, grabbing Heather’s notebook, she flipped through the few pages of notes Heather had taken—well, tried to take—the week before, brow furrowing the entire time. It was kind of cute. She even pulled her scarf down to rest her chin in the L-shape of her hand, lips curling into a pucker as she looked, and read, and thought her thoughts.

Maybe she could balance her pencil on her upper lip just sitting like that.

Wasn’t there a rumor about her going into high school right after sixth grade because she was so smart?

Shit.

Heather hugged her pillow tighter, shifting slightly.

If that _was_ the case, what was Ronnie doing here with her? The genius with the senior still in freshman math. Was it funny? She did kind of laugh earlier when Heather said she was already failing, didn’t she? But then Veronica said they were friends. She’d written it down before she came. And friends don’t let friends struggle.

She eyed Veronica’s orange notebook. What math was she in, anyway, to have so many notes in just the beginning of the year? Calculus? Trigonometry? _Geometry_?

She eyed Veronica, and a smile pushed its way onto her face before she could help it. Veronica’s hair looked so fluffy, just like a cloud. She was always so warm in her touches; even when she pointed at things, she was still gentle somehow.

And her lips. They looked especially soft today.

Was it strawberry or cherries this time?

Wait.

Fuck.

Heather held her pillow to her face and pressed them together.

If Veronica did go to high school after sixth grade, _she wouldn’t still be in high school_ now. Sheesh!

Two little tugs to her sweater sleeve and Heather looked up. “Hm?”

Veronica pushed her pillow down and plopped Heather’s notebook on top of it, folded over so the right page was all she saw, one of Veronica’s sticky notes stuck to the top. Heather let out a tiny gasp at all the things Veronica managed to write in, like, five minutes or less, skimming her way back to the post-it.

 _There’s more than one way to study.  
Add color!  
Make it pop!  
If it helps you remember, you’ll learn faster_.

Okay, so all Veronica really did was write a worksheet by hand with her gel pens, but each question had its own color. Identify the x-axis, the y-axis, the origin. What was the formula for slope-intercept? What did ‘rise over run’ mean? Everything above the pink line was positive, and everything under it was negative. Plot these points on the graph. What quadrant were they in? How about these other points?

Some things were still confusing—like quadrants. Why did they go in the opposite direction?—but written this way, it was at least _not boring_ to look at.

Who knew math could look so... _cute_?

There was nothing on the page after it, which was actually a bit disappointing. Veronica scribbled something down another yet sticky note, biting her lip when she handed it over.

 _It never hurts to review before moving ahead.  
  
Do those first, ok? I know you can_.

“That makes one of us...” Heather mumbled, picking up her pencil.

_Here’s a trick: say it out loud, like you’re the one teaching me.  
It’s called the protégé effect. Works like a charm! b(^_^)_

Heather looked at her. Veronica stared back.

“Is that what works for you?” she asked, almost whispering, “Saying things out loud?”

Veronica gripped the hems of her sleeves. Her usual smile was slow to start, but at least she didn’t look away. And her nod wasn’t The Nod this time, though she did only do it once. Like she was _unsure_.

Like when Heather grabs her by the arm when she’s not paying attention. Or when Heather puts her on the spot with a complicated question.

It was like, for a second, she froze.

Heather looked down at her makeshift worksheet. Veronica readjusted her scarf in the corner of her eye. Hiding away again. She pressed her pencil to the page harder.

“The x-axis is the horizontal line, so left to right. And the y-axis is the, uh... the other one, that goes up and down. Vertical.” She knew that much, at least. “Right?”

Veronica nodded. Heather followed her finger to the word _origin_.

“Oh God... uh... The centerrrrrrrrrrrr... of the graph? Zero-zero?”

Veronica nodded faster. Heather breathed a sigh of relief, massaging her forehead as the chill which crept down her back melted away.

“ _Jesus_... At this rate, you’ll have to spend the night, Ronnie!”

Veronica patted her shoulder.

They continued on.

Veronica took off her scarf in stages. And only when Heather was busy writing, though she could still see from the corner of her eye. First, she pulled it down. Then, she slowly tugged at the end of it, toward the side Heather couldn’t see, until it disappeared from her shoulders altogether.

Heather said nothing when she looked over to ask if she got the question right.

After a solid half an hour of going over the very basics, Heather pulled out the post-it with the equation on it and stuck it to the front of her notebook with a smile. She definitely got it now. But damn if she’d let Veronica know that.

Ronnie couldn’t leave yet.

Not until Heather knew what was up with her.

Not until she heard her voice.

Veronica was so nice, why didn’t she ever say anything?

Pushing her pillow toward the headboard, Heather flopped back against the mattress, sending papers and pens and stuff jumping off her bed to the carpet below. Veronica hit her with a playful eye-roll as she looked back at her, and Heather giggled. She patted the pillow next to her and, after some thought and placing their books on the floor, Veronica laid next to her, nape of her neck on the actual pillow, crown of her head on Heather’s arm.

“Spending time with you is so nice,” Heather sighed, “Even if it’s, like... studying.”

Veronica smiled, one side pulling more than the other. Jesus, she was cute.

“Thanks for coming around. Really. _I_ didn’t even care that much. But things are already really different this year, so maybe I should start, huh?”

Veronica nodded. But then her eyes fell. She pressed her lips together and swallowed. Then, as if she just noticed, she lifted her head and tapped Heather’s arm.

“Oh; sorry.” Heather tucked it under her own head instead, chin closest to her elbow. “Hey, Ronnie?”

Veronica stared at her.

“Even if I do get it, like, all the math stuff... would you maybe...” Here goes. “You wanna sleep over anyway?”

Veronica blinked twice.

“I know it’s Sunday, but you brought all your school stuff with you, right? And—and we’re about the same size, you can wear some of my clothes tomorrow if you want! And pajamas, of course.”

Veronica propped herself up, elbow digging into the pillow, face unchanged. Still as soft as she always was.

“I just...” Heather shrugged, “I dunno, I don’t want you to leave yet, you know?”

Sitting up a little more, Veronica took Heather’s wrist, pushing away her sleeve so she could see her palm a bit better. Then, laying back down, she began to draw letters onto it. It kind of tickled.

_WHY?_

Why?

“Because,” Heather bit her lip. “Because Heather and Heather don’t do sleepovers much. And having one-on-one time with you is nice. And... I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

_WHAT?_

“You know how, like, when you know someone really well, you can hear their voice inside your head and stuff? Like, when Heather starts to say something and you just know Heather gonna tell her to shut up? Or like, when you’re doing something and Heather yells your name but she doesn’t stop when she gets to the end? Like, you just _know_ she’s gonna do it before she actually does?”

Veronica nodded along as she talked, even cracking a smile at the last part.

_YEAH?_

Heather swallowed.

“I don’t have a Veronica voice in my head,” she murmured, “So I was hoping... if you stayed over... maybe we could, like, talk?”

Veronica’s smile faded away. She pressed her lips together again as she looked away, pulling back her hand to hold close to her chest.

Then, she sat up. Leaned halfway off the bed to grab a pencil and her post-its.

“... Ronnie?” Heather propped herself up on her elbows just as Veronica shoved another note at her. Without turning around.

 _I want to talk to you, Heather, believe me. I want to, so much. I keep trying to, I swear. But I just can’t right now.  
I’m sorry_.

 _It’s not you, it’s me. anxiety. selective mutism. I’ve had it for a long time + I’ve been trying to get better, but it’s really, really hard_.

“Veronica...”

_If I had to pick between you, Duke or Chandler to try and talk to first... well, I’m here, aren’t I? ^^'_

Heather sighed. Grabbing her phone from her nightstand, she opened up her browser and typed _selective mutism_ into the search bar.

Beside her, post-its and pencil now in her lap, Veronica sniffled. She looked up when her phone pinged from inside her coat pocket and crawled off the bed to grab it, completely missing the smile Heather hid behind hers.

Veronica Lodgic 💙💙💙  
**Today** 3:42 PM   
**H.M:** Does ur hand ever get tired  
from writing all those notes?  
  
**V.S:** Hey, a girl’s gotta practice her  
penmanship to keep her business 😉  
  
**H.M:** Lmao true  
  
**H.M:** We can text all night if u  
want, pretend we’re long-  
distance gfs and then  
cuddle!!  
**Delivered**

A huge grin appeared on Veronica’s face as she came back to the bed. Their eyes met before she turned back to her phone.

**V.S:** You can talk, Heather lol. It’s  
just *I* can’t.  
  
**V.S:** I don’t mind listening if you  
don’t mind me not answering  
back verbally  
  
**H.M:** I love u I don’t want u to feel  
anxious.  
  
**H.M:** Friends don’t let friends  
struggle!!!  
  
**H.M:** Ok so if we cuddle tho and go  
to sleep  
  
**H.M:** We’ll release oxycotton which  
will lesson anxiety and make u  
feel safer right??  
**Delivered**   
**V.S:** HEATHER NO

“What?”

But Veronica was too busy typing.

**V.S:** Right idea, wrong word.  
**V.S:** You mean oxyTOCIN. OxyCONTIN is drugs. DRUGS  
BAD. DON’T DO DRUGS!!  
**H.M:** OK!! MY BAD!!!  
  
**V.S:** DAMN RIGHT YOU’RE BAD!  
  
**H.M:** 😢  
**Delivered**

They shared a giggle, and Veronica made herself comfortable on the bed again, lying beside Heather, occasionally facing her.

**H.M:** Ok but forreal. Sleep over  
tonite? Pleeeeasseee???  
  
**H.M:** No talking necessary. Promise.  
  
**V.S:** I really want to. My anxiety  
says no but I say yes.  
  
**V.S:** I’ll have to ask my parents first,  
give me a sec?  
  
**H.M:** 💛💛💛  
  
**H.M:** My closet is good for calls fyi.  
It’s L-shaped,  
  
**V.S:** <3  
  
**H.M:** Just use 💙?  
  
**V.S:** 💙 now go do math  
  
**H.M:** 🙁  
  
**V.S:** Please?  
  
**H.M:** 😐  
  
**V.S:** Pretty* please?  
  
**H.M:** 😊  
  
**H.M:** I like to express myself thru  
emojis bc I’m stupid lol  
  
**V.S:** You’re not stupid, Karen!!!  
  
**H.M:** 🥺🥺🥺  
  
**H.M:** ilysm!!  
**Delivered**

Heather giggled again as Veronica rolled her eyes and made for the closet. She stood at the door after opening it, staring at the black screen of her phone before going inside.

“We can order out tonight and eat in here if you waaaant!”

Veronica didn’t answer, of course, but that was alright. Rolling over onto her stomach, Heather kicked her legs and pumped her fists, rubbing her face all over her pillow as she squealed into it.

For the first time in six years, not only did she not have to get all dressed up for a night of fun with a cute girl, _but she didn’t even have to leave her house._

Voice or no voice, it was a win all the way.

* * *

Monday came way too soon.

As she pulled into the driveway, Heather Chandler pushed up her rose-colored sunglasses.

Hither Mcnascara  
**Today** 7:14 AM   
**H.C:** HURRY UP  
**H.C:** Or I LEAVE  
**H.C:** WiTHOUT U  
**Delivered**

And she gave the horn a long press for good measure.

Nothing happened. She sighed.

Hother Puke  
**Today** 7:15 AM   
**H.C:** Text me V’s address  
  
**H.D:** Why  
  
**H.C:** Bc I asked  
**H.C:** Bitch.  
  
**H.D:** U didn’t say Simon says  
  
**H.C:** Fuck Simon  
  
**H.D:** Lol  
**H.D:** Wdy want it I thought u were  
picking up Heather??  
  
**H.C:** I am. She’s taking too long  
**H.C:** I bet v’d be faster  
**H.C:** Now give!  
  
**H.D:** Lol sucks  
  
**H.C:** I bet I could leave come back  
and still have to wait  
  
**H.D:** Prolly yeah  
**H.D:** Not like she does much  
anyway  
**H.D:** V  
**H.D:** Lol  
**H.D:** Ok gimme sex  
**H.D:** *SEX  
**H.D:** GIVE ME AAAAA  
SECCCCCCCCC  
  
**H.C:** Hurry u gay spaz  
**H.C:** Jfc finally she’s here!  
**Delivered**

She unlocked the door as Heather came up, dropping her phone into her purse and setting her glasses back on her face. “Chop-chop, Heather, let’s motor.”

Heather didn’t move. She looked back at her house as she swung her purse, twisting from side to side.

“Hea _ther_!”

Heather glanced at her. “We can’t just leave without Veronica, Heather.”

Like an actor on opening night, Veronica appeared on Heather’s doorstep, stage right. She tiptoed down to the foreground with her backpack and that unflattering thing she called a scarf curled around the lower half of her face.

Heather’s jaw fell.

What the hell?

When Veronica saw her, she took it off immediately, wrapping it around her arm like gauze. With her other hand, she waved, forcing a smile.

Heather shot one right back, nixing the eye-roll as she looked from Veronica to Heather. “ _Well_? Is it your turn to be gnomeheads, or are we going to move the fuck out?”

Heather looked to Veronica. “Go ahead, Ronnie.”

Veronica took the seat, backpack pushed into one corner on the floor, and Heather perched daintily in her lap. Her arms around Heather’s tiny waist. Heather leaning against Veronica. Smiling. Giggling. Touching.

How the fuck did Heather Chandler become the third wheel in her own damn car?

It was the longest ride to school in the history of road trips. Every light turned red when they reached it and stayed that way for what may as well have been hours. People were as slow on the street as they were in their brains. And even when the cars near them played their shitty music too damn loud, it wasn’t enough to mute Heather’s squeak when Veronica opened her legs and she fell onto the seat. Or when she giggled about it like she would at Ram’s stupid jokes.

Veronica leaning her face into Heather’s curls for some fucking reason, and Heather pretending Veronica actually said something. Because they were _so close_ now. Bestest of best _fucking_ friends.

Helper Puke  
  
**H.C:** Well fuck me gently with a  
chainsaw  
  
**H.D:**??  
**Today** 9:34 PM   
**H.C:** Shut up Heather  
  
**H.D:** BITCH *U* TEXTED *ME*  
  
**H.C:** *U* literally Heather’s face  
this morning  
**H.C:** Like actually  
  
**H.D:** Lol  
**H.D:** Rammed her w a good  
dicking?  
  
**H.C:** Bitch I wish  
**Delivered**   
**H.D:** Then what’s up?  
  
**H.D:** Fine just tell me at lunch ig

Lunch took even longer than usual to arrive.

Elbow digging into the table, chin held in her palm, Heather stabbed at the clumps of what the school considered mashed potatoes on her plate. Every once in a while she looked up to see where Heather and Heather were at regarding the lunchtime poll, but only when they came into her field of vision. The Teletubbies and My Little Pony called, they wanted their Sun and Smooze back.

So help her if they fucked up something so simple.

And then there was Veronica. God. What was she thinking? Heather kept one eye on her at all times, a stare Veronica sometimes returned. Instead of making the most of their limited time alone together, Veronica looked behind them often, for her little dork squad no doubt. Her Sloppy Joe sat untouched. Why’d she even get it? She never ate anything anyway.

Was she even going to ask if Heather was okay? Jesus.

Too many chunks of mush piled on and it all fell off her fork. Fine. More to mutilate.

She could pick out Heather’s childish voice even in the middle of a rowdy yell. Her knuckles turned white. She had half a mind to turn around and scream for every single simp in the caf to shut the _goddamn fuck_ up, but all she did was adjust her posture and massage her forehead with a little too much force for it to feel any kind of good.

“Fuuuuuuuuuccckkk....”

An open notebook slid into her lap, red colored pencil already sitting between the pages. Must’ve run out of post-its.

What’s wrong? I have aspirin if you need it. Or is it something else? (Remington?)  
You seemed annoyed this morning too ^^'  
  
---  
  
Well, look who was feeling bold today.

Why were you at Heather’s this morning?

I just helped her study for math yesterday, that’s all

And she was so stupid you had to stay there all night?  
  
---  
  
Veronica’s shoulders fell; she shook her head.

Don’t say that.  
Sleeping over was a last-minute thing, actually.  
  
---  
  
“Really.”

Veronica nodded.

“Gimme that.”

So if I invited you to sleep over at my place, would you come?  
  
---  
  
Veronica bit her lip. She turned her head so Heather couldn’t see her expression. Or maybe so she could sneak another peek at the loser table.

With a sigh, Heather did the same, looking for Heather and Heather to see how much time they had left.

She didn’t find them.

Veronica tapped her arm.

Probably??  
  
---  
  
Probably.

Heather underlined the question marks. Twice. “What are these? Hm? Tell me.”

Veronica’s eyes widened, and she barely caught the pencil when Heather tossed it back to her.

“Just say no if you don’t want to.”

Veronica shook her head, and her left hand came down firmly, almost hitting the edge of the table. She picked up her pen again, but before she could start scribbling, Heather reached across her lap and caught her wrist.

“So that’s a no?” Veronica’s wrist trembled in her grip. “Veronica, look at me.”

Veronica turned the other way. Her attempts to pull her arm out of Heather’s hold were weak. And, in fact, only made her squeeze tighter.

“You’d sleep at Heather’s but not at mine. Why? What’s wrong with me?”

Veronica was actively leaning away from her now, so far she was halfway off her seat. If she didn’t turn around, say something, do anything, she was going to fall. And that would be her own damn fault.

And Heather would laugh. That was a promise. She would _laugh_.

In attempt to help her along and not faceplant on the floor, Heather gave Veronica’s arm a good tug to pull her back. And she succeeded. Partially.

Veronica dropped her pen.

“Look me in the eye and tell me yes or no.”

Veronica didn’t move.

Heather sighed.

“Look, I don’t give a damn which answer you give as long as you say it with your chest. Pick one and stick to it.” She dug the tips of her nails into Veronica’s arm when she tried pulling it away again. “ _Listen_ to me, Sawyer. You’ll never get anywhere throwing out ‘maybes’ and ‘probablys’ when you really mean no. _Stop wasting everyone’s time_.”

And she let her go.

Now she was slightly less angry.

They sat in silence—Heather sipping her chocolate milk, Veronica not doing much of anything—until Heather and Heather came back into the room with their smug and cheerful faces.

“About time,” Heather muttered. When they reached the table, she added, reaching for her clipboard, “Don’t we usually do bathroom breaks together?”

Heather furrowed her brow as she handed it over and took her seat. “We weren’t in the bathroom. We were outside. Asking people the poll.”

“Heather, what’s wrong with Veronica?”

Heather’s head shot up. “I don’t know, _Heather_ , ask her yourself.”

She ignored Heather doing just that, kneeling at Veronica’s side and whispering to her, until Heather’s foot poked her from beneath the table.

Heather’s eyes flashed toward Heather and Veronica. Then, dropping her fork, she held up two peace signs and laced them together.

 _Did they_? she mouthed.

Heather shrugged, scrolling through the list of responses on the first page. Not a bad turnout. “ _Probably_.”

“Hey, guys? Ronnie and I are gonna hit the stalls _now_ , okay?”

“What about your lunch?” Heather asked, “... Both of them.”

Heather shrugged. “If you want them, go for it. I’ll eat later. C’mon, Veronica, let’s go.”

Heather watched them walk off, hand in hand, from behind her clipboard. Halfway to the door, Heather put an arm around Veronica’s waist and led her out that way.

When they were completely gone, Heather turned to her, mouth agape.

“Was that what chainsaw was about earlier?”

“Veronica slept over at Heather’s last night. Who knows _what_ happened. I had to drive them _both_ to school this morning, and you know my car.”

“Holy shit. I didn’t take her for a lesbian, but it makes sense!” Heather’s grin fell at the pointed look Heather threw at her. “Heather, I mean. Veronica never even—” She blinked. “Wait, which one are you mad at?”

“Eh, both. But for different reasons.”

She reached across the table and plucked a tater tot from Heather’s abandoned tray, examining it from every angle. If Veronica didn’t sleep over at Heather’s, would she have said yes to sleeping at hers? Or was she like some homework fairy who only stayed because Heather’s stupidity trapped her there? God. You can take the girl out of the nerdzone but you can’t take the nerdzone out of the girl. Speaking of...

“You gonna eat that or make out with it?”

Heather smirked. “Heather, when was the last time we had a sleepover?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and it’s finally posted!!  
> (I wrote this literally a month ago. like down to the day. and I’m just posting it now like _damn_!)
> 
> so. much. **CODING**.
> 
> i am but a bitch of very little brain, i get confused easily.
> 
> also uh. i literally started off with one ship as endgame but then i got to this chapter and just _jumped onboard another ship entirely._
> 
> **i don’t know how to handle that, i truly don’t.**
> 
> i'll have to rework my outline.


End file.
